


Apex Predator

by carpfish



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Ambiguously Shippy, Gen, Kirisaki Daiichi - Freeform, criminal activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/pseuds/carpfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the only way to get rid of a devil is with the help of an even worse devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apex Predator

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BPS' 2015 Team Battle Grand Finale  
> Alternate summary: Hanamiya Makoto is the world’s most unlikely hero.

As it turns out, middle school was all about networking. It’s not like Shouichi didn’t realize that his case was in trouble after digging up the fact that the defendant and the judge used to be close friends in the same soccer club (it’s always the sports clubs!). But it’s still rather disheartening to see that his prosecution efforts went just as well as one would expect. It’s at times like these when he really regrets not taking up politics. These days, with enough leverage, not to mention the judicial system on your side, any graceless official can get off alleged (and very well-evidenced beyond reasonable doubt, thank you very much Judge Arisugawa) embezzlement charges with little more than a slap on the wrist. Shouichi doesn’t like to brag, but if a blockhead like Takarabe Junichiro can get away with this laughably unsubtle appropriation of funds, then Shouichi is fairly sure he could probably steal Osaka Castle itself and remain a free man.

Shouichi celebrates the verdict by visiting his favorite bar and binging on a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. “To the righteousness and splendour of the Japanese legal system!” He toasts before downing his drink, much to the amusement of the bartender. Shouichi closes his eyes to savor the burn, thinking that maybe if he prays hard enough, Takarabe will burn just like that in hell. He should pay his respects at a shrine sometime if he wants that to happen. Unless Takarabe’s already paid off the gods like he did the judge. Dammit. Shouichi is a man who recognizes when it’s time to just stop fucking thinking, so he immediately pours himself another shot. Nobody can blame him if he comes into work late tomorrow.

The bartender, a short lady who barely looks legal to be drinking herself, sets down the glass that she’s been wiping and leans on the bartop next to him. “So, Imayoshi-san, I’m guessing the case either went really well or really bad,” she comments flatly, and Shouichi doesn’t even deign that worthy of an answer so he just takes another shot. That’s his… Third? Fourth?

“Fuck tha’ bastard Takarabe,” Shouichi slurs pleasantly, wearing his tea party smile. The bartender gives a soft snort of laughter, and Shouichi doesn’t know (or care, frankly) whether she’s laughing at the verdict or him.

“Yeah, the corruption case, right? It’s been on the news. Everyone knows he did it, but that’s the system for you,” She comments drolly, and Shouichi frowns because that’s exactly the thinking that he hated so much that he was willing to trudge through law school to disprove it. He’s not in the position to be starting a debate though, he knows his limits. Shouichi grabs for the bottle, swipes once, and misses it. He must have been knocking those shots back faster than he’d thought.

The bartender doesn’t either doesn’t notice his disapproval or pretends not to, and shrugs loosely before going on. “Those big politicians, think they’re so far above the laws they make. Kinda wish you could just knock ‘em on their asses once in a while, right? Remind them that they’re not the only ones in the food chain.”

Shouichi’s patience has been worn thin today as it is and he’s not sober enough to effectively feign interest, so at this point, he’s staring blearily at his bottle of whiskey wondering exactly _how_ the contents disappeared so fast. But he catches the dregs of the bartender’s words, and nods politely as he prepares another shot.

If only Takarabe could get eaten up by some higher-ranking predator, like a giant shark, or Godzilla or something-

Shouichi stops suddenly, the rim of the shot glass an inch from his lips, and although nobody can tell, his eyes narrow even more than usual behind the lens of his glasses as a foxlike grin spreads across his lips.

Goddamn, middle school really was all about connections.

\---

_“How’s my favorite kouhai?”_

_“Look you fucking bastard, I told you the last fucking time don’t you ever fucking call this fucking number again!”_

_“Aww, but you still picked up, didn’t you- Ah ah ah, don’t hang up yet! You’ll want to hear what I’ve got to say.”_

_“I’m giving you ten fucking seconds then I’m putting you on the block list.”_

_“Does the name Takarabe Junichiro mean anything to you?”_

_“Oh, that bastard? Fucking clown. What about him?”_

_“I trust you know about his... Misdirection of government funds.”_

_“You just had to- Yes. I know. He’s a clumsy fucking amateur. You want me to get involved and bust him for you or something? If that’s all you got, then I ain’t got time for this bullshit-”_

_“Please, kouhai dear, just shut up for five minutes and trust me I will make it worth your while.”_

\---

When Takarabe Junichiro enters his private car after a long day of work, he immediately notices two things. Firstly, he is not alone in the backseat. Secondly, his chauffeur is gone. Before he can react, the car screeches into motion at a speed teeters on the extremities of the speed limit, and a hand wraps itself tightly around his arm. He slowly turns to look to right, and there sits a bushy-eyebrowed man with a greasy smile and oil-black suit.

“Takarabe-san, it’s been a while,” The man drawls, relaxation exuding from his pores, save for the vice grip on Takarabe. “I heard you’ve been doing well for yourself lately.”

Takarabe feels the sweat collecting at the back of his neck, and he nods quickly in a hasty bow. “Hanamiya-san, what a surprise!” He laughs nervously, adjusting his glasses. He knows Hanamiya. Of course he knows Hanamiya. You don’t attend all those elite charity galas without knowing a CEO or two, let alone the youngest CEO of a fortune 500 company in Japan. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Hanamiya doesn’t answer directly, but turns towards the figure in the passenger’s seat up front. “Man, senpai sure did a lousy investigation job, huh? All that research and he could only dig up the embezzlement? What’s this guy’s full track record, Koujirou?”

A man with neatly parted hair and hollow eyes turns around and sifts through the papers in his hands, and it takes Takarabe a few moments to realize that those are probably copies of his financial records. “If I’m not mistaken,” the dead-eyed man says in a dull monotone. “The complete list of achievements would be embezzlement, bribery, graft, involvement with organized crime- the Sakashima Group, to be exact-, indirect extortion, influence peddling, a short stint in money laundering, and patronage- that’s us, by the way.”

Hanamiya claps his hands acerbically, as if he were congratulating a toddler on their superb spaghetti art. “Thank you, Koujirou, thorough as always. And well done, Takarabe-san! You’ve certainly been busy. I’m proud of you!” He props up his cheek with one hand, gaze fixed on Takarabe. “And I heard you even dodged a court scandal the other day. A bit careless there, don’t you think? But it’s alright as long as you didn’t get caught.”

The car slows to a halt at a red light, and Takarabe looks desperately at the crowds of pedestrians walking past, silently beseeching them for help. The choice of tinted windows is causing him significant distress right now. Hanamiya pays him no mind, and cozies up closer to Takarabe, sliding an arm around the politician’s shoulder.

“Of course, we haven’t forgotten that none of this would be possible if not for that _generous donation_ that our company bestowed you with at the beginning of your career, and some expert consultation we provided on covering your tracks, yes?” The more Takarabe nods, the more frantic he feels, like a rat being toyed with by a snake. Or more aptly, a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“C-certainly, Hanamiya-san! I am of course, indebted to your kindness, and I’ll be sure to return the favor next time we-"

“Hush.” Hanamiya places a thin finger on Takarabe’s lips, silencing him instantly. “Thank you for the acknowledgement, Takarabe-san, but that’s not what we’re here for is it? What we’re _really_ interested in is that offshore bank account that you think we don’t know about, and those, ah, _hot spring_ vacations that you’ve been hiding.” Hanamiya’s hand drops to Takarabe’s knee and slides up his thigh to rest on his pants pocket. “Judging by how much you’re spending, Takarabe-san, it’s easy to see that you’re earning a lot more than what you’ve been telling us.”

Takarabe hears the pop of bubblegum from the front, and a nasty snicker from the driver’s seat. “Ooh, _busted._ ”

Hanamiya pulls back again, all loose limbs lounging on his side of the car. “I like you, Takarabe-san, I really do. That’s why we’ve been so kind to you, y’see?” Hanamiya’s smile is growing less delicate and more vicious by the minute, and Takarabe is fighting the feeling of despair coiling up in his stomach. “Put it simply, you’re small fry, so we’ve been happy to overlook your naughtiness, but now, thanks to your recent brush with the law, we decided it might be good to keep you on your toes from now on.”

The car finally stops outside the Kakyuu Corporation Building, Hanamiya’s base of operations, and similarly, Takarabe can feel the blood freeze in his veins. Hanamiya unbuckles the seatbelt that he’s been wearing all along, ever one to follow traffic regulations, and then looks up at Takarabe gently.

“Of course, I’d be willing to overlook all this in return for some,” Hanamiya licks his lips in a sultry manner and shuffles a bit closer towards Takarabe, almost sitting in his lap. Takarabe stiffens in several manners of speaking as Hanamiya leans in close and whispers huskily, hot breath on his earlobe. “ _Unconventional_ payment. A private favor, if you will.”

Takarabe’s breath catches in his throat as he considers the Hanamiya’s proposition. He’d never considered it, and he’d never thought it’d come to this, but Hanamiya is slender and young and mainly Takarabe really really doesn’t want to die, so-

“Wh- really?”

Hanamiya jerks back far enough for Takarabe to watch his face turn twist into a heinous snarl, and Hanamiya’s snort of derisive laughter crushes all hope in one cruel instance.

“You actually fell for it? Of course not, ya’ goddamn pervert. But don’t worry, Takarabe, you’re definitely fucked.”

\---

_“Mother fuck! I thought I told you not to fucking call me again!”_

_“I just wanted to congratulate my favorite kouhai on a job well done. I sent a gift basket to your office as thanks.”_

_“You have the shittiest taste in drinks, bastard. I threw it out.”_

_“Aww, that was Johnnie Walker Blue Label. What a waste. Takarabe looked a lot skinnier than before in that resignation press conference.”_

_“That’s what happens when you scare the bullshit out of a politician, heh. Nothing but skin and bones left. Y’know, you’d make a shit politician. Couldn’t even properly dig up any dirt on the bastard.”_

_“Maa, I guess that’s why I’m a lawyer, right?”_

_“If that’s all you’ve got to say, I’m hanging up.”_

_“Alright then, till next time. Nice to know I can always count on you in a pinch, kouhai dear.”_

_“STOP FUCKING CALLING ME YOU PIECE OF-”_

_beep_

\---

This time when he visits the bar, Shouichi orders a gimlet instead of hard alcohol, and the bartender raises an eyebrow. “A case went well, Imayoshi-san?” She asks as she slides the glass across the bartop, and Shouichi just smiles enigmatically before raising his drink for a toast.

“To the righteousness and splendour of the Japanese legal system.”

 

 


End file.
